Trauma
by davidthesquirrel
Summary: MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE FANFICTION. Frank has recurring dreams about his past.
1. Chapter 1

Anger flowed from Frank into his guitar. His arms, wrists, and fingers, were cramped from long sessions of playing. As he played the last notes of the song, his anger eased. He leaned against the wall and exhaled. He shook out his arms and wrists and cracked his knuckles one by one. Music always eased the pain.

Frank threw the decorative pillows off of his bed. He sighed as he threw open the cold, empty sheets of his bed. Jamia had taken the kids to see her parents. Frank fluffed his pillow and fell face first into it, exhausted. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes.

Frank woke up in his living room. His childhood living. A wave of fear washed through. Not again. He got off of the worn out couch and looked down at his own body. He was an eight year old again. Hurriedly, he ran towards the front door. As he put his hand on the cold, metal doorknob, his head was smashed into the wooden door. He collapsed, holding his forehead, and looked up to the looming figure above him. His mother. Her face expressed an angry satisfaction and morbid happiness. She lifted her food and struck little Frank in the stomach. He doubled over, back arched upwards, knees and hands on the ground. She spat on him.

"You piece of shit," she growled. Silent tears landed on Frank's small hands. His mother raised her foot again and forcefully brought it down on her son's back.

Choking, Frank burst out from his dream. His head throbbed with pain, his stomach crying out in agony. His eyes were damp with tears. He stared at the wall opposite to his bed. His breaths were hard and were frequently interrupted by painful sobs. His stomach was churning, his throat tight. He threw the covers off of him and stumbled to the bathroom. He leaned over the toilet and vomited. He flicked the vomit off of his bottom lip with his palm and sat in the corner of the bathroom. He hadn't had one of those dreams for years. His head still was beating from the dream. Frank gingerly touched his forehead and winced. He grunted as he lifted himself from the bathroom floor. He made his way to the sink and looked into the mirror. He inspected his forehead. Nothing. Yet when he touched it, it screamed in pain.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep so he made his way downstairs. He flipped the light switch in the kitchen, the old lights flickering on. He opened the pantry and took out a packet of Starbucks ground coffee beans. He filled the coffee maker he and Jamia had received at their wedding with water from the sink and poured the packet into the filter. He glanced at the clock above the kitchen doorway. 3:46 AM. Minutes later, the coffee maker started producing hot, bitter coffee.

He walked into the living room. He picked up the remote and pushed down on the power button. He wished Jamia were here. Three minutes later, Frank heaved himself off of the couch and walked to the kitchen. He grabbed a mug off of the drying rack. Frank looked at the picture printed on it. Jamia was kissing his check as he smiled into the camera. He inhaled the scent of the coffee and poured the blackish brown coffee into the mug. Frank sat back down on the couch, pulling a blanket over his shoulders and back, he brought his knees up to his chest and sipped his coffee. The voices on the television faded to the back of his thoughts as he stared out of the bay window. He subconsciously sipped drank his coffee as he watched time pass outside. Slowly, the sky brightened, birds sang, and neighbors' sprinkler systems sputtered to life.


	3. Chapter 3

At the stoplight, Frank rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of his thumbs. The agitated drivers behind him honked angrily after the stoplight turned red. Frank blinked hard, attempting to get rid of the sleepiness. Finally, he pulled into Mikey's driveway, noticing by their cars that Gerard and Ray had already arrived. Frank took his guitar out of the car's trunk and walked over to Mikey's house. He opened the front door and followed the bursts of laughter rising from the basement. Frank cleared his throat.

"Hey, guys," he spoke as he came off of the last step. Ray looked up from being hunched over his guitar. Gerard and Mikey turned around from where they were sitting on the couch.

"You alright, man?" Gerard asked, concerned.

"Hmm?" rank rubbed his right eye with his sweatshirt covered fist as he made his way over to sit next to Gerard on the couch.

"You just look really, really tired…" Gerard said.

"Oh, I couldn't sleep with Jamia gone," replied Frank.

"Oh," Gerard said skeptically as he eyed Frank. Frank usually was so energetic. He went nights without sleeping when they were on tour.

"I think I got something good," Ray said, playing a riff on his guitar. Mikey started to play his bass, harmonizing with Ray.


	4. Chapter 4

"Frank. Frank!" Gerard shook Frank. Frank was groaning on the couch. A while before, he had fallen asleep while the rest of the band was writing songs.

"No… Please… Stop," Frank mumbled, his face scrunched in distress. Gerard widened his eyes in concern. As he shook Frank harder, Ray and Mikey stood up from where they were they were sitting.

"Frank, please wake up," Gerard pleaded. Frank started to scream. Ray ran to the basement bathroom and filled a cup with cold water. When he returned, he poured the liquid on Frank's face. Frank jerked is body upwards, gasping for air. He sat up. Gerard was on his knees at the foot of the couch. He looked up to Frank who was dripping with water. Frank forced a laugh.

"Ra, what was that for!" Frank said when he noticed the dripping glass in Ray's hand.

"Frank… you were screaming," choked Gerard, fear in his voice.

"Oh, I had a dream about all of the fan girls chasing me," Frank laughed.

"Frank, stop. That's not what you were dreaming about," Gerard said sternly. Frank looked away. Gerard stood up and touched Frank's arm lightly. Frank flinched, pulling his arm away, limp.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you, Gerard," Frank said, turning his head away looking at a painting on the wall with fake interest.

"…Ray and I are gonna get some beers upstairs, you want some?" Mikey asked awkwardly, feeling out of place. Gerard didn't reply, his eyes fixated on Frank. Mikey stood there for a few moments, concerned, before he followed Ray upstairs.

"Please Frank, tell me what's wrong. I've never seen you in so much pain," Gerard said. Frank sniffed and brought his knees up to his chest. Huddled, he rested his chin on his knees and hugged his legs closer to his body.

"I'm sorry, Gerard," Frank said, his voice cracking. He buried his head into his arms, but Gerard didn't relent. He grasped Frank's arm. Frank gasped in pain and pulled his arm away, rubbing it.

"What are you doing? I have a huge cute there!" Frank cried.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know, show it to me," Replied Gerard. Frank slowly pulled off his sweatshirt. The both of them look at Frank's arm. There was no cut.

"Frank…" Gerard stared. Frank looked embarrassingly confused.

"But… but it hurts. It hurts so badly. There's gotta be a cut," Frank whispered to himself.

Gerard gingerly touched his friend's arm. Frank winced and twisted his arm on reflex. Gerard looked into Frank's eyes. They were scared and chaotic, moving rapidly back and forth searching for any sign of an injury.

"Does anywhere else hurt, Frankie?" Gerard asked.

"Yeah… my forehead and my back." Gerard slowly reached over to the right side of Frank's were Frank had pointed out where it hurt. When he made contact with his skin, applying very little pressure, he received the same reaction from Frank, pain. Yet, there was no sign of injury. No swelling. No discoloration. Gerard pointed to Frank's back.

"Can I…" Frank nodded and leaned forward. Gerard lifted up Frank's shirt, revealing his pale back, his spine arched and protruding up from his skin. Gerard laid his palm on the middle of Frank's cold back. Almost immediately, Frank jerked forward, letting out a hardly noticeable whimper.

"Frank, do you know why it hurts?" Gerard asked. Frank looked away again and after a little while, he said,

"No." Gerard did not believe this answer.

"Frankie, please tell me, I… I care about you so much," Gerard pleaded. He sat on the edge of the couch and embraced Frank. Moments later, Frank turned around in the Gerard's arms and hugged him back, his chin resting on Gerard's shoulder. Finally, Frank spoke.

"There are these terrors. They started last night." Gerard felt Frank's jaw moving on his shoulder.

"I've had them before, years ago, but they were usually just flashes of a scene. Gerard, my mom abused me as a child" Frank felt Gerard tense and imagined his expression, shocked and horrified. Gerard was speechless. He tried to say something, but each time he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Frank waited for a response from Gerard. Gerard said nothing. Frank understood. He went on,

"Last night's dream was so long compared to the ones before. I woke up on my old living room couch as a little boy again and started to run to the front door to escape what was about to come, but when I was about to open the door, she smashed my head against the door. When I fell to the ground, she kicked my stomach. When I was on my hands and knees, she raised her foot and brought it down on my back." Frank started to tremble. Gerard held him tighter.

"I'm so sorry Frank. I'm so sorry."

"I'm scared Gerard. The one dream I just had now was even worse. She had a knife. I was bleeding, Gerard, I was," Frank desperately tried to convince Gerard.

"What if she tries to kill me?" Frank cried, his voice weak.

"No one will kill you, Frank, because I'll be there with you." Gerard released Frank, put his hands on his shoulders and looked into Frank's eyes. They resembled a child's: wide with terror and despair.


	5. Chapter 5

Frank let his head rest on the passenger's seat window, ignoring the dull pain from his forehead. Gerard had offered to let him stay at his house that night. Frank didn't want to be alone, so he agreed. Bored of staring at lamppost after lamppost on the side of the road, Frank turned his head to look at Gerard. Gerard ran his fingers through his recently short, brown hair, then glanced at Frank, then back at the road, before saying,

"Do you want to call Jamia?" Frank thought this over before replying,

"No, she hasn't seen her parents in a while and the twins are hard to deal with. She doesn't need more stress." Gerard accepted this and concentrated on the road. Frank went back to looking at lampposts.

As Gerard shut the car door, swinging his key ring around on his finger, he spoke to Frank,

"I'll make dinner. You can use some of my clothes as pajamas. They might be a little big though. Also, you can sleep in my bed." Frank replied,

"No, why would I take your bed when you have a perfectly good guest room?" Gerard laughed,

" Frank, the guest room bed is crap. You need to sleep well tonight. Plus, my bed is Temperpedic." Frank grinned. He was so lucky to have an amazing friend like Gerard.

After Gerard unlocked and opened the front door, the two of them walked upstairs, each step making the stair groan and creak. Frank followed Gerard into his room. Gerard's bed was poorly made and there were multiple boxers and t-shirts lying on the ground.

"Sorry. I would have cleaned if I had known you were coming. I don't do so well with Lindsay back in California," apologized Gerard. Frank shrugged.

"It's no big deal. Jamia's been gone for a day now and my whole house is much worse than this." Frank held his left arm still sore. Gerard pulled open his clothes drawer and pulled out an old gray t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. He handed them to Frank.

"If you want, I can give you clothes for tomorrow," Gerard said.

"No, that's okay. I'll wear what I'm wearing now."

"Alright. Do you want me to throw your sweatshirt in the dryer? It must still be wet," offered Gerard.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." Frank pulled the sweatshirt off of him, his shirt partially lifted with it, revealing the bottom of his dove tattoo. He smiled and handed the damp clothing over to Gerard. Gerard grinned back and left Frank to his own privacy. Frank gathered Gerard's old boxers and shirts and threw them into the laundry basket by the door. After Frank changed into Gerard's pajamas, He went down into the kitchen to see Gerard drinking a cup of coffee, back turned to Frank, hand on the kitchen table, his weight adjusted on his right side. Bringing the cup of coffee to his mouth, he turned around to look at frank. The pants were much too long, Frank stepping on the ends of the pant legs and his shirt hanging off of his shoulders, baggy. Frank blushed.

"I'm sorry," Gerard chuckled. He offered Frank a cup of coffee. Frank gratefully took it and sat down on one of the stools nearby. Gerard sat on the opposite side of the table, elbows resting on the tabletop, chin resting on his hands.

"Do you want to talk?" Gerard asked. Frank looked down at the dark liquid in the cup.

"I think we've had enough for today," Frank said softly.

"Okay! I'm gonna make dinner! I'm too lazy to do anything else so is hotdogs alright?" Gerard asked. Frank, surprised by Gerard's sudden burst of joy replied,

"Yeah, that's fine." Gerard slid in his socks over to his refrigerator. Swinging the door open, Gerard hummed and danced as he looked around in the fridge for the hotdogs. While Gerard ran around the kitchen, Frank laid his head down on the cold, hard surface of the table.

"Gerard?" Frank asked, after long minutes of listening to Gerard cook.

"Mhm?" Gerard answered, his mouth full of bread.

"I don't want to go to sleep tonight." Gerard turned around from where he was standing and swallowed what was left of the bread.

"Frank, you have to go to sleep sometime. If you have another dream, I'll stay up with you all night. Don't worry," Gerard said reassuringly. He laid several hotdogs in front of them. "You want anything on it?" He asked. Frank picked up a hotdog and took a bite of it,

"No thanks, I like my plain," Frank said after swallowing.


	6. Chapter 6

Frank took a running jump onto Gerard's bed. He sunk into the soft material of the mattress. He had never slept on a Temperpedic before. Shortly after he climbed into the sheets, Gerard's voice penetrated through the wall,

"GOOD NIGHT, FRANKIE!" Frank buried his head into the soft pillow and drifted off to sleep.

Frank was playing with 5 little matchbox cars in his room. No. Please. Not again. He tried to get out, but he was locked in. The door was locked. The window was locked. There was no way out. Desperately, small Frank hid under the cot in the corner of his room and covered himself with a jacket. Long minutes of waiting. Just before Frank was about the fall asleep, the doorknob began to rattle. His eyes widened in panic and his body tensed. He knew he would be found, but a tiny flicker of hope still thrived inside of him. Silence. Unexpectedly, someone gripped his ankle and dragged Frank out from under the cot. The jacket flung off of him.

"How dare you hide from me," his mother snarled. "You need to be punished." She revealed a kitchen knife from behind her back. Frank lifted his hands in front of him and turned his head away. He shut his eyes. Then, he heard footsteps slowly ascending the stairs. Frank opened his eyes and saw his father looking through the doorway. A messenger bad was on his shoulder. Frank urgently pleaded for him to save him. His father stood there watching his wife bring the knife down on Frank's left shoulder. Pained seared through Frank's whole arm, he cried out in pain, but managed to look back at the doorway. His father turned away, avoiding his son's gaze, and walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

Gerard arrived at the emergency room, arms aching from carrying unconscious Frank. It was two in the morning and very few people were waiting to be seen by a doctor. Frank has put on a stretcher and was led to the room Frank was put in by a middle aged, strawberry blond haired female nurse. After the doctor examined Frank, he asked Gerard a few questions.

"Do you know exactly what happened?" the doctor asked. Gerard hesitated to tell him, unsure whether Frank would want him to tell someone else about his dreaded past, but it was for his own good.

"Umm… Well he started having these dreams. He used to be abused by his mother as a child and every dream was of her hurting him. Every time he woke up, where ever she cut or hit him, hurt in reality. This time, he woke up and imagined an actual cut on his left shoulder. I couldn't see it because, well, it wasn't there, but he was panicking and crying and he kept on touching his arm and supposedly looking at his blood. I didn't know what to do, and he kept on asking for bandages so I went and got some, but by the time I came back, he had fainted." The Doctor glanced at Frank.

"So is that why he has bandages on his shoulder?" the Doctor asked, smiling. Gerard nodded. The doctor thought this over for a while, then said,

"I believe that Frank may be developing a form of schizophrenia. I'm going to prescribe him Risperidone. Does he have anyone to look after him?"

"His wife is with her parents in California, so I guess he can stay with me for the time being," Gerard said. Frank groaned. His right arm shot up from his side and squeezed his left shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he gasped in agony. He squeezed his eyes shut again, straining to sit up. Gerard put a gentle hand on Frank's back and helped him up.


	8. Chapter 8

Hours later, Gerard drove Frank back to his house, the sun only starting to come up. When he glanced over at Frank, he saw that he was dozed off, face pressed against the window. He looked calm enough, but Gerard still worried whether he would have a dream again. As much as he hated seeing Frank writhing in his sleep, crying for help, he knew he had to be there for Frank.

After Gerard dropped Frank off at his house, telling him to stay awake and watch TV or something, he took a quick trip to the pharmacy. When he arrived, he handed the prescription to the pharmacist and received Frank's pills. He made his way back to his house and found Frank lying on his stomach, cheek squished against the arm rest, watching Adventure Time. When Gerard closed the front door and Frank sat up on the couch.

"Where'd you go?" asked Frank. Gerard pulled the orange container of pills out of his pocket and sighed,

"I asked the doctor not to tell you because I said I'd tell you myself," Gerard turned the container around, making the pills rattle inside, "He said you're beginning to develop signs of schizophrenia and you have to take this medication, Risperidone." He looked down at his feet, embarrassed, almost, to see Frank's face. Frank stuttered,

"Sch-schizophrenia? But- but I can't- I don't- I-…" Frank stopped trying to express how he felt. He was stunned. Hadn't his mother hurt him enough already?

"Frank, you were never bleeding," Gerard revealed to him, his face suddenly cold and serious.


	9. Chapter 9

Frank woke up from another unnerving dream. He put his head in his hands and rocked his body back and forth. When would this end? His back stung. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. He lifted his shirt over his head and turned his back to the mirror. Twisting his head around, he saw three long scratched right below his right shoulder. Beads of blood began popping up from them. Frank squeezed his eyes shit, wishing the scratches away. He would not this take over his mind. He opened them, hopeful, but the scratched were still there and starting to swell. Terror-stricken, Frank rushed to the guest bedroom where Gerard slept. Frank shook Gerard and he snorted awake, dazed. His hand searched for the beside lamp switch and asked Frank,

"What? What's wrong?" The lamp turned on, barely filling the room with mild, yellow light.

"I'm bleeding again," Frank said, trying to hide the urgency in his voice, turned around to show Gerard his back. Gerard rubbed both his eyes while saying,

"You're now blee-" he stopped mid-sentence when he lifted his fist from his eyes. Three bright red parallel scratched were strewn across Frank's back. Sleepiness escaped Gerard.

"Who did this to you?" Gerard asked, immediately regretting the words of the stupid question as they left his mouth.

"She did it," Frank said bluntly, conviction clearly in his voice, referring to his mother.

"Frankie, no, your mother is long gone. You told me yourself. You were taken away by the DCF."

"Then how do you explain these?" Frank said pointing to the scratches.

"Frank, you must have done it to yourself," said Gerard, suddenly realizing what Frank had done.

"…but…" Frank was speechless. He looked at his hands. Then, looking closer, the tips of his three middle fingernails on his left hand were red with his own flesh. Frank's mouth gaped open. What was happening to him?


	10. Chapter 10

Gerard and Frank stood waiting at the baggage claim in JFK airport. Jamia's plane had been delayed for a few hours. Hearing this, Gerard offered the idea of getting lunch instead of waiting around at the baggage claim. Frank refused, saying that he would wait for Jamia. As bored as he was, Gerard stayed with Frank. For hours, Frank was leaning on a pole, staring intently at the escalators, waiting for Jamia to descend from one. His fingers reached up to his forehead, fiddling with the white bandages that covered a deep gash created when he fell off of his bed and landed on the corner of the nightstand. That was a particularly bad night. Frank started to scratch at the bandages, the itching growing increasingly worse. Gerard came strolling up from behind him, grabbing Frank's wrist, pulling it away from the bandages, and told him,

"Don't scratch it. It won't heal. Do you wanna-" Before Gerard could finish his sentence, Frank tore free from Gerard's grip, running towards the escalators. Jamia was standing on one of the steps, slowly coming down from the floor above. Just as her feet touched the ground, Frank ran up and enveloped her in his arms. Surprised by Frank's attack, Jamia laughed in relief. Frank had changed less than she had imagined. She wrapped her arms around his waist. Frank buried his nose into his wife hair and breathed in the soft, delicate scent of her shampoo, the individual hairs tickling his face. Oh, how he had missed her.

Gerard stood watching Jamia fuss over Frank's bandages, laughing, their love for each other conspicuous. Hangs on his hips, Gerard could not help but feel a little empty inside. He missed Lindsay. He missed Bandit. He recalled holding Bandit for the very first time. He remembered looking into her beautiful little eyes for the first time, taking his breath away. He had never seen anything as angelic and magnificent. Gerard snapped awake from his loneliness when Jamia started to hug him,

"Thank you, Gerard," she said. Gerard grinned.

"Oh, Jamia, don't thank me. You've helped Frankie much more than I have by just coming down that escalator," he laughed. As they walked out of the airport doors, Gerard grew nervous. While absorbed in Frank and Jamia's situation, he had totally forgotten about the public. What if someone had seen Frank with his bandages? What if they took a picture? So many rumors would be created because of one picture. He would bring this up and hurry the happy couple along, but he did not want to ruin the moment. He ignored the worries.


	11. Chapter 11

"Frank, are you sure you can do this?" Gerard asked, observing the bags under Frank's eyes, "We can find a replacement for this concert. I have one ready just in case. I just want to make sure you're all better." Frank blinked his eyes hard to get himself to fully wake up. His head hurt and his right forearm was throbbing in pain, yet he refused to sit out of this concert.

"No. I wanna play," Frank answered. Gerard nodded in understanding and went to his place on the stage. Frank picked up his guitar and readied himself. Guitar pick in hand, strap around his shoulder, Frank waited for the lights to turn on.

I wasn't as bad as Frank expected. Music eased the pain, as it always had. Frank let himself go into the music, his fingers ripping out notes of the song. He wished he could play forever. He closed his eyes, muscle memory taking over the song. This was the greatest feeling in the world! For that moment, Frank forgot all about his mother.

While Frank was playing vigorously, he noticed that the notes he played were not being amplified. Alarmed, Frank checked if the jack was all the way in the guitar. It was. He raised his head to see what was going on backstage. Tracing the chord back to the amplifier, he saw that it to someone's hand. Someone had pulled the chord out of the amplifier. Furious, Frank ran towards the backstage to get a closer look at the culprit. He only had to take a few steps to realize that his mother was holding the chords in her hands, an evil grin stretched across her face.


	12. Chapter 12

Frank dropped his guitar and staggered off stage, eyes locked on his mother. Gerard noticing that one of the guitarists was gone continued singing even though he desperately wanted to chase after Frank. What had he seen? Had he taken his medication? The look of utter terror had disturbed him quite a bit. When the song finally ended, Gerard made a quick announcement to crowd, raising turmoil and protest. Ray and Mikey stood, thoroughly confused, on the stage. Neither of them had seen Frank leave since he was always running around stage. They had both noticed the lack of guitar playing, but had assumed it was a technical issue. They both glanced at each other, communicating without words, and ran offstage to follow Gerard and Frank. But Gerard and Frank were long gone.

Gerard ran backstage, asking everyone in sight whether they had seen Frank. Very few of them had seen him run by. Gerard looked for Frank everywhere. Gerard grew more and more distressed with every room he checked with Frank not in it. Having looked in every room, Gerard ran outside, desperately seeking for some clue of Frank's trail. Not finding anything, Gerard ran towards the back of the concert area where all of the trailers were parked, Frank wasn't there. Gerard was tired. His chest was heaving and his limbs were tired, but he did not give up. He ran towards the open road. The highway. Cars darted past Gerard, his hoodie caught in the wind from the velocity of them. Looking left and right, Gerard spotted a figure sitting against one of the metal railings on the side of the road. Gerard rushed to the figure, soon revealing that it was, in fact, Frank. Frank has his head in his arms and his whole body quivered. Gerard put a firm hand on his shoulder. Frank jumped in alarm, not hearing Gerard approach, due to the oncoming cars. After recognizing Gerard, Frank relaxed, but continued to cry. Gerard sat down next to him.

"What happened back there?" Gerard asked, shouting to make his voice heard over the cars. Clearly, this was not a very convenient place to talk. He helped Frank up and they walked back to the concert. Gerard sat Frank down in their trailer.

"What happened?" Gerard questioned, trying to look into Frank's eyes, failing, for each time, Frank looked away, evading Gerard's stare. After sniffling, Frank said,

"She was there. She was backstage. She unplugged my guitar from the amp. She was going to hurt me." Gerard wasn't sure what to believe. She couldn't have really been there.

"Wait right here," Gerard instructed and ran back to the backstage. As he ran to Frank's amplifier, he was bombarded with questions and anger by the crew and the rest of the band. Pushing them away, he saw that all of the jacks in the amplifier were in the correct place, seemingly unmoved.


	13. Chapter 13

Gerard walked up to Frank's door and rang the doorbell. Moments later, Jamia opened the door. Her tired expression was quickly replaced by one of joy when she met Gerard's eyes. She led Gerard to Frank's bedroom. When Gerard walked into the dark room, thin streams of lights shining through the closed curtains, Jamia walked out of the room and shut the door behinds her. Gerard slowly approached the bed where Frank laid. Frank's head was halfway out of the covers, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose showing. Gerard could hear his shallow breathing and saw the rise and fall of the covers as Frank breathed. Gerard watched him for a while, relaxed by how tranquil Frank seemed to be, but a whimper rose from Frank's throat. His eyes twitched, furrowing and he writhed in place. His head fully came out of the covers to uncover a look of anguish on his face. A look of terror. Before Frank's dream could go any further, Gerard shook Frank awake. Frank snapped his eye open. Gerard was astonished. Frank's eyes had changed. Torment looked as though they had been etched into his irises and they looked eternally tired, ready to give up. Frank's hair mas disheveled and unwashed and the beginnings of a beard were appearing on his face.

"Are you taking your meds?" Gerard asked sympathetically. Frank nodded, not wanting to speak. Well, Frank, as much as drugs may seem to help, they really don't unless you want them to. You have to try Frankie. Don't start to give up. If you can't do this for yourself, do it for Jamia. Do it for your kids. Do it for me. Besides, I want you to meet someone. I think it will help, but there's also a chance that it will hurt you even further. Frank didn't mind. Nothing could be worse than this. He had given up. He hadn't taken his medicine. He couldn't deal with this anymore, he just wanted to leave. Gerard ended a call with someone while Frank was swimming in his misery.

"She's coming up now," Gerard said, sitting on the edge of Frank's bed, helping him sit up. Moments later, there was a small knock on the door. A confused Jamia led an elderly lady into the room. She was a stout woman with short, dyed blond hair and held a dark green hand bag in her right hand. Her fingernails were properly manicured and painted a deep, emotional purple. Her eyes were the same hazel color as Frank, tired, but not tormented. She walked towards the bed were Frank and Gerard sat, Frank following her every move as she approached. There was some familiarity in her step, in her movements. He had seen this woman somewhere, yet he had never worked with or communicated with any elderly people in his life. Who was she? She stopped walking at the foot of the bed, and looked intensely into Frank's eyes. Frank withdrew, a little startled by her gaze.

"You don't recognize me, do you, dear?" Frank pondered this for a moment, then, he suddenly understood. Frank gasped sharply, choking on his own breath. He scrambled to get out of the sheets and pressed himself against the wall. The old woman's face began to morph, to morph into a younger person. His young mother. The same malevolent smile was plastered on her face that Frank had seen too many times in his dreams. No. No. This had to be a dream. Gerard wouldn't do this to him. Frank hit his head with his fist and closed his eyes. This all had to do away. It had to it was a dream. Someone grabbed his wrists, restricting Frank from hitting himself. It wasn't Gerard this time. It was HER. Frank pulled away immediately, disgusted by the very touch of her. He looked for Gerard, but he was not there. Gerard had left the room. Was this reality? Frank couldn't believe this. He staggered out of bed, only wearing boxers, trying to escape this nightmare, but she was still there. She started to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Frankie. I'm so so sorry. Please forgive," she pleaded. Frank couldn't believe what he was hearing. Her face still wore a malicious smile. She wasn't an old delicate lady as she had tried to make Gerard and Frank think. She was still an evil monster. She went on her knees.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I'm really really sorry. I've thought about you for so many years, wanting to talk to you, to confront you, but I couldn't. See, when you were young I had this disease, it was eating away at my brain, my sanity, and I had to take this medication. It didn't help my problem at all. In fact it just made me more angry, and it just built up, and I became insane. I'm sorry you couldn't have a normal childhood. I really wanted to redo my whole life because of what I did to you. So I did. I remarried, having divorced your bad excuse for a father, and had another child. He's about 7 years younger than you, and his name is also Frank. He has a PhD in psychology and helps people and saves lives every day. Frank, I am so proud of both of my sons. You have probably gone through hell after what I've done to you, but you still became such an amazing person. If you even look at what your fans are saying about you… It's incredible. But again, I'm so sorry. After all I've done for you, an apology probably isn't even close to enough." Suddenly, the evil woman in front of her morphed back into her real form, an old lady. She was not smiling wickedly, but instead had tears streaming down her face, pleading for forgiveness. Frank understood. She was a human being. She probably went through hell to having her son taken away from her. He wasn't angry at her, he was angry at her insanity, her disease. Frank walked tentatively towards his mother. She stood up. She hugged him with all of her might. She hadn't held him in years. Tears trickled out of her old, worn out eyes. Frank hugged her back. The torture disappeared from his eyes.


End file.
